by jphilo | Apr 24, 2012 | Out and About, Top Ten Tuesday
Over the weekend, I attended the McLean Bible Church’s Accessibility Summit. The trip was a short one, rendered even shorter by a 6 hour delay in the Southwest flight out of Omaha. The Omaha airport is small, and Terminal B, where we were trapped because our boarding passes had already been collected and the staff wasn’t forthcoming with new ones, is even smaller. Determined to polish my perky, Pollyanna image, I spent the 6 hour delay refining the following top ten lessons list:
10. The delay was the perfect opportunity to guess which men and women, during their childhoods, knocked fourth grade classmates out of the way in order to get to the front of the line.
9. The second thing to do when a flight delay is announced (the first thing is to knock people out of the way so you can be first in line at the customer service desk) is to find an electrical outlet, plug in your phone, laptop, or iPad, and camp out.
8. This spring’s top color combo for infant girl clothing is brown and pink.
7. Much as I love my kids, I am thankful we no longer need to travel with young children.
6. Janet Evanovich books on an iPad make the delay much funnier.
5. When the only food vendor in the terminal is Godfather’s Pizza, people with a dairy allergies go hungry.
4. Customer service people are trained to be courteous and patient, but not particularly forthcoming with information. On the flip side, riding herd on fourth graders is easier than dealing with irate airline passengers facing a 6 hour delay.
3. 6 hours is long enough for the most technologically-challenged person to fall in love with an iPad 3.
2. 6 hours is not long enough for a person to master the art of spreading the sanitary cover on the toilet and perching before the automatic switch flushes it away.
1. 6 hour delays are to be expected when you accidentally pack your deodorant in your checked luggage instead of your carry on bag.
Now it’s your turn. What lessons have you learned during flight delays? Leave a comment.
by jphilo | Apr 4, 2011 | Out and About
Okay, okay, so the title doesn’t pack the alliteration punch of Steinbeck’s Of Mice and Men. But, Starbucks and cherry blossoms were the two big disappointments of this trip to DC. The weather was too darn cold, wet, and gloomy to ride the hotel shuttle to the Metro station and catch a train to the Tidal Basin. By the time the sun came out and the weather warmed up, I was worn out from the conference, in no mood for a solitary adventure. So my camera never saw daylight, my hopes of wowing you with a picture of cherry blossoms are dashed, and the only picture that came close to the subject is this one of cherry pie.
My search for Starbucks (a big treat for this small town girl) was nearly as futile as the blossom failure. When there was time to get a cup of coffee, no shop could be found. When there was a shop on every corner, I didn’t have time to stop. Time and access finally converged while I waited for my flight at the Dulles Airport. Delicious!
So the Dulles Airport gets a thumbs up for Starbucks, another thumbs up for long open terminal where middle-aged women obsessed with exercising can do laps, but a thumbs down for no free Wi-Fi. Either middle-aged women obsessed with exercising get a smart phone so they can check Twitter and Facebook without paying a small fortune for airport internet access or they confine their travels to Omaha and Phoenix, which offer the service for free.
Of course, this trip wasn’t really about cherry blossoms and Starbucks. Those would have been icing on the Accessibility Summit cake. But the cake was wonderful without them. Temple Grandin’s keynote was fantastic and watching her interact with fans was fascinating. (Fantastic, fans, and fascinating in the same sentence. Take that, John Steinbeck!) John Sheptock’s story and singing were sensational (more alliteration), and I actually walked past him in the hotel and at the Summit a couple times. And in the conference exhibit hall, several people made beelines to my table and made comments like, “This is the book I wanted to get,” or “My friend bought a copy, read a few chapters, and said I needed to get it, too.”
I met so many people passionate about improving the lives of individuals and families dealing with special needs. I gained so much knowledge at workshops about resources for families, churches, and caregivers. I matched names to faces and made new friends.
But the highlight of the trip was the response from parents and pastors at my workshop about grief and guilt in parents of kids with special needs. I didn’t think anyone would attend such a Debbie Downer, but people did. Not only that, they nodded through the whole thing. Pastors thanked me for giving them insight. Parents thanked me for talking about the forbidden subject. “You know how we feel,” they said with tears in their eyes. “You know.”
So forget the cherry blossoms and Starbucks coffee. This weekend was all about pastors learning to minister to wounded families. It was a place for parents to salve their souls with the balm of Gilead. It was a time of hope of healing.
And that, John Steinbeck, packs a powerful punch.
by jphilo | Apr 1, 2011 | Out and About
Just so you know, this post is not an April Fool’s joke. I really am in Tyson’s Corner, Virginia (just outside Washington DC) for the Accessibility Summit at McLean Bible Church. To be accurate, the Summit begins later today, and I’m hanging out in the hotel business area because a new heater and AC unit is being installed in my room. My theory is that the CIA has hidden cameras in all hotel rooms in these parts, so they decoded my mutterings when the noisy heater woke me repeatedly in the night. Who says our government isn’t responsive?
The longer I sit here and people watch, the more glaringly apparent it becomes that I’m not in Kansas (yes, I live in Iowa, but please work with me) any more. Even though I read plenty of David Baldacci thrillers, Lisa Scottoline legal mysteries, Mrs. Pollifax CIA romps, and other fiction set on the East Coast to prepare me for this culture shock, it didn’t work. This midwestern gal is jaw-droppingly agog at the accents (this morning’s mix included British, Australian, Jersey, New York, and perhaps German), not to mention the fashion show that began in the Chicago airport yesterday and shows no sign of ending any time soon.
The most noticeable fashion statement thus far is the knee high, calf-hugging boots with three inch heels. Sported mostly by younger women who don’t yet realize “Bunion Builders” is the CIA code name for these boots, they look – well – really expensive, uncomfortable, and positively anti-midwestern.
The second most noticeable statement has been skin tight leggings, sometimes worn with bunion builders, sometimes under baggy, flowing shirts, and sometimes with short shirts and presumably thong underwear since no one had unsightly pantie lines. Apparently, fat jiggles are not considered unsightly in this neck of the woods. This is also anti-midwestern. In that part of the country, there are more fat jiggles per capita, but their owners tend to keep them well hidden.
I’m coping with the culture shock as well as can be expected. So far, I’ve resisted the infrequent urges to buy a pair of bunion builders, squeeze into leggings, or purchase thong underwear. Quite a feat of self-control for this midwestern, former school teacher who holds the door open for strangers, wears flat shoes and khaki pants, and knows better than to hug a Lutheran.
Just to be on the safe side, I’m making a list of anyone who looks like they work for the CIA, starting with the guys installing the heater in my hotel room. Once I get back home, I’ll mail it to the agency with an instructive note about how to make their spies blend in a little better, possibly by hiring midwestern women with sensible shoes, contained cellulite, sensible underwear, and absolutely no accent.
It worked for Mrs. Pollifax.
It could work for me.
Ya, shure, you betcha!
